


Humanizing a God

by lady_wordsmith



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Winter Soldier (Comics)
Genre: 1930s, 1940s, Assisted Suicide, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Childhood Sweethearts, Class Differences, Especially children in the 1920s, F/M, Great Depression, I can't write children, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-World War II Bucky Barnes, Reader-Insert, Romance, Tragic Romance, World War II, probably anachronistic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-09-09 14:57:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8895565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_wordsmith/pseuds/lady_wordsmith
Summary: It’s the photo of the two of you when you’re older that really catches his eye. He’s in uniform, grinning. His arms around you as you smile bemusedly at the camera, your hands on his shoulders. You’re wearing a dress and a striped apron, and he thinks he sees a pin on your dress. The photo’s in black and white, but Bucky can remember the dress being in your favorite color, and the apron being red, white, and blue.
 Bucky seeks answers to what happened to you after he was presumed dead, but first he must tell your story. Along the way, he learns things he never knew: about you, about the people around him past and present, and most importantly, himself.





	1. Told over Tea

Bucky knows who you are, logically speaking. He’s seen some old pictures, those keepsakes of his sister Rebecca’s. When he had finally manned up to go see her, she eagerly showed him all the old photos she had, including ones of the two of you, stretching all the way back to childhood. He sort of remembers pulling on your braided pigtails back then, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough for you to squawk, turn around, and wallop him a good one.

It’s the photo of the two of you when you’re older that really catches his eye. He’s in uniform, grinning. His arms around you as you smile bemusedly at the camera, your hands on his shoulders. You’re wearing a dress and a striped apron, and he thinks he sees a pin on your dress. The photo’s in black and white, but Bucky can remember the dress being in your favorite color, and the apron being red, white, and blue.

He doesn’t ask Rebecca about it then, but he does pinch the photo, keeping it in his wallet for some unknowable reason. She doesn’t seem to notice it going missing, since the next time they talk, she doesn’t bring it up, and Bucky thinks his secret’s safe.

Bucky’s the one to ask, in the end, but it took a stroll around Manhattan for him to do so. That was one of his habits, taking the subway all over the city and simply walking around, seeing what he could remember. Sometimes it was hard, because so much of the city had changed. He didn’t mention his travels to Steve or Rebecca or anyone else, though he was certain that many of them knew. Bucky would be gone for hours at a time, sometimes from sunup to sundown, and he never spoke a word about his journeys to anyone.

He kept the picture in his wallet the entire time, and sometimes it felt like it was burning a hole in his wallet, though he resisted taking it out. The first time he did was at Luna Park in Coney Island, when his eyes had stopped on the B&B Carousell. He had been told the old thing was restored, but looking at it in all its glory stirred feelings in him as his eyes rested at the hand-carved horses, painted as bright and shiny as they were the last time he had seen them decades earlier. Instantly, his mouth was dry, and before he was aware of it, he had pulled out the photo and stared at it in his hand.

_“Let’s ride the Carousell, Jamie, please? It’s so pretty!”_

_“For you, dove, anything. Would you like a horse, or shall we get one of the chariots?”_

_“The chariot, Jamie. So we can be together.”_

He had put the photo back in his wallet and left the Carousell with only a single look back. He was tempted to see if the chariot still existed, but he refrained, uncertain of how reliable his memory was, and not wanting the snippet of memory to be something created in his head to fill in the blanks of memory surrounding the photo.

The second time Bucky pulled out the photo came out of nowhere, at a bookstore he stopped at to take a break from walking and trying to remember. He had wandered into the poetry section, and found a bilingual edition of poems by a French writer named Paul Verlaine. Something about the name had struck him, and he pulled the book out and bought it without much thought. Sitting on a bench outside the store, he flipped through the book before pausing at a poem titled “Clare de Lune.”

_“In English or French, dove?”_

_“French. You make it sound so sweet that way, Jamie.”_

_“Because I can actually speak it?”_

_“Because you make it come alive. Please? For me?”_

_“Of course, angel. ‘_ **Votre âme est un paysage choisi’** _...”_

He took out the photo again, and Debussy was on his mind, too, because Debussy’s _Suite bergamasque_ and its third movement was playing in his head. At first he thought it was because Debussy’s “Clare de Lune” wouldn’t exist without the Verlaine to inspire it, but the melody haunts him for some time after, even after he puts the photo away and continues on.

But the stroll in Manhattan, on West 44th Street made him finally reach out for more information again. First to Steve, and then to Rebecca.

Something about West 44th Street haunted him from the moment he first saw the photo. It had taken all of his courage, but he finally made the trip. At first Bucky thinks it’s something to do with the old Nora Bayes Theatre and the shows it used to put on, and so he was devastated when he went to the old site and found the place had been demolished after the war.

Then he saw the memorial plaque.

 **DURING ALL THE COMBAT DAYS OF THE WAR BETWEEN THE UNITED NATIONS AND THE AXIS POWERS, THE AMERICAN THEATRE WING STAGE DOOR CANTEEN OCCUPIED THIS SITE. THIS TABLET IS DEDICATED TO THE MEN AND WOMEN OF THE ENTERTAINMENT WORLD WHO BROUGHT CHEER AND COMFORT TO THE SOLDIERS, SAILORS, AND MARINES OF AMERICA AND HER ALLIES**.

The striped apron. The pin on your dress. You had been a hostess at the Stage Door Canteen during the War. Taking out the photo with a trembling hand, he remembers.

_“I don’t like the way you dance and talk with those men at the canteen.”_

_“I’m a hostess, Jamie, that’s what I’m supposed to do.” You tell him as you pin the wing pin to your dress._

_“Are you supposed to flirt with them, too?”_

_You narrow your eyes at him. “Jamie, these men are just like you- fighting for their country and praying they make it back safe and sound. So they need to forget sometimes and come to the canteen. Besides, don’t tell me **you** don’t flirt with the girls in every city they send to.”_

_He had looked away, embarrassed and a little ashamed. You smiled in that way of yours and walked over to him; taking his face in your hands and making him look at you._

_“Jamie… Those men mean nothing to me, not really. I dance and I talk with them- and yes, maybe flirt a little- but at the end of the day, I come home and take off this pin and this ugly apron and you’re still my guy. Am I still your girl, even when you walk away from all those women in those other cities?”_

_He nods._

_“You’ve always been the only one for me, dove.” He rasps out, and you smile and kiss him._

_When you part, you rest your forehead against his as Bucky pulls you close and embraces you._

_“When this is over… Dove, I know I don’t have a ring…”_

_“Yes, Jamie. The answer’s always been yes.”_

He needs to know what happened to you. It takes a lot of talk between himself, Steve, and Rebecca before his sister finally gives him some bare bones information, along with a name and an address in Pennsylvania. By then he remembers a lot of the story, not just from being told but actually remembering, so he thinks that’s why Rebecca gave him the address.

As he opens the gate and approaches the grand old house, he gives one last look at the photo to steel himself. When he knocks at the door, a young woman answers and Bucky startles just a little. It’s not like looking into the past, and the woman’s features that remind him of you are diluted by at least one or two generations of time and other ancestries, but he can see you in the cheekbones and the slight knit of the young woman’s brow.

“You upset her and I’m ripping your balls off and mailing them back to New York.” She tells him as a way of hello.

The smart mouth is just a touch too sharp to be you, but he can see you in the words, anyway.

The young woman leads him through the winding house, and when they finally come to a room the young woman tells him is the tearoom.

“She has to have tea when she talks about the past. One of her eccentricities.”

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here!”

The sudden voice makes Bucky jump, but in an instant he smiles when he catches the old woman’s eye and immediately walks over, all charm and light. The old woman is sitting in an ornate dining chair at a table, surrounded by a full tea service. On the table is also a cardboard box, and while Bucky looks and wonders about the box, he says nothing.

“Rebecca told me about you,” the old woman tells him. “She said that you and I had to talk.” She nods at the chair across from hers, and Bucky sits without hesitation.

The old woman takes a sip of tea as the young woman offers Bucky tea and other assorted things. He accepts the tea and declines the baked goods. He adds milk to his tea, but no sugar as the old woman watches him and waves the young woman away.

“Now, why are you here?” the old woman asks him.

“I need to know things, certain things.”

“You can read those things online, I hear.”

“I need to hear them from someone who was there.”

The old woman smiles and it’s nothing like yours but there’s something of you there anyway, that calms Bucky and makes him less nervous in this woman’s presence.

“So do I, Mr. Barnes. So do I.” The old woman takes a sip of her tea. “I’ll make you a deal.”

“I’m listening.” Bucky tells the old woman.

“If you tell me everything that happened before your fateful fall and assumed death, I’ll tell you everything after.”

“Why?”

“Call it humanizing a god, Mr. Barnes.”

“But why do you want to know?”

“I’ve simply never heard the story. Not a word, especially not straight from the horse’s mouth.” And then the old woman reaches across the table to take his hand, and her eyes are almost pleading. “Please, Mr. Barnes, tell me about you and my mother.”


	2. A Spirited Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky tells the story of your first meeting, as he learns a few things about your family.

The old woman takes her hand off Bucky’s, looking thoughtful. “My mother didn’t speak of you, at least not to me.” She tells him. “And I got the impression once that she didn’t speak about you to others. When I was younger… I accidentally overheard her talking to… to someone. Trying to, anyway.” She sighs, taking a sip of tea before fixing Bucky with a soft look. Bucky isn’t sure if it’s pity for you, sadness, or something else. “Mr. Barnes, my mother nearly cried then, and she was not a woman who cried, ever.  Never, not once, even during events that it would have been almost expected.”

“Yes, she did,” Bucky jumps at the unexpected voice, before turning to see the young woman from earlier. She was carrying a teacup of her own. She joins him and the old woman at the table, pouring and preparing her own cup, not looking at either of her tablemates. “She just didn’t bawl or sob. A few tears, then she was all business. She told me, when… well.” The young woman looks up, and she and the old woman share a look that Bucky can only interpret as apprehension.

“I know she’s gone.” He tells them. “Rebecca told me.”

The old woman sighs, making a motion with her hand as if to fan herself while she dabs at her eyes with her other hand. The young woman sips her tea, worrying her bottom lip as she sets the cup down.

“Did Rebecca tell you how?” the young woman asks him, her voice soft.

At first Bucky thinks it’s sympathy for him, but there’s something about the tone that suggests secrecy, as if your passing is a taboo subject. Bucky shakes his head. The two women share a glance. The old woman sighs again, and nods at the young woman.

“You were there, at the end. You can tell him.” She says.

“Not at the _very_ end. She wanted to be alone, then. But yes,” the young woman says, nodding and looking at Bucky. “Gigi- that’s what I called her, it used to be initials. G.G. because “Great Grandma” was a goddamn mouthful for a kid…“ She chuckles. “And it became Gigi somewhere down the line- I was with Gigi toward the end. Helping her ‘set the stage,’ as it were, and then I listened to her talk awhile before she sent me away. She never mentioned _you_ -“ The young woman nods at Bucky. “But she talked about her family and Annie and Grier, everything before. I can’t remember why she mentioned the thing about tears, but she did. ‘It feels good to cry, my dear, but at the end of the day, it solves nothing. I learned that a long time ago,’ she said.”

 “I… I don’t understand. ‘Set the stage?’” Bucky asks. “Becky said she’d been sick.”

“And she was,” the old woman told him. “Had been for a while. Cancer of the breast, metastasized to the heart, lungs, and liver. Terminal. She already fought that beast once, back in the nineties, and knew the second time was deadlier than the first. She was damned if she was going to die suffering that way.”

The old woman looks at Bucky, and the piercing gaze is almost the same as yours, only the eye color is different, and the lines around the woman’s eyes somehow make her look more stern and determined than he remembered you being. He knows she’s probably daring him to say something as he puts the pieces together, the reason for their hesitance and secrecy dawning on him.

“She killed herself,” he whispers, and the young woman frowns.

“Not quite,” she says. Bucky looks at her, and the whole thing clicks into place.

“You helped her.” He says. Stating, not asking.

The young woman glares at him. “I don’t regret it, but I didn’t do it to be cruel. She couldn’t do it herself by then, and she would have if she could. She even said so.” The young woman’s glare softens, and she offers him a small, hesitant smile. ” I wasn’t some child then, Mr. Barnes. She only died five years ago, a few months after Captain Rogers came off the ice. He even came to visit, before the end.”

“Steve… visited her?” Bucky asks. He hadn’t known that, and it’s clear the two women have picked up on that, sharing another look.

“He never told you.” The old woman sighs at that. “Yes, after the Battle of New York, about a month or two after getting off the ice. She couldn’t leave her bed then, but she welcomed him with about as much enthusiasm as a cancer-stricken, ninety-something year old woman could muster.”

“She slapped him. Twice.” The young woman interrupts, her voice sounding gleeful as she pours herself more tea. “I never knew Gigi knew _those_ kinds of words.”

“From the looks of him, neither did Captain Rogers.” The old woman remarks drily, motioning for the young woman to pour her a cup of tea as well. “The three of you were all childhood friends, yes?”

Bucky clears his throat, knowing the old woman is giving him an in to begin his story, allowing him to avoid mulling on that previously unknown bit of information. “Yeah,” he says. “We were. She had a hell of a right hook back then.”

* * *

“Knock it off! I said knock it off!” Bucky hears the cry, though it doesn’t sound like Steve, more high-pitched and feminine, and takes off running. He closes in on a mass of children, most of them about his age with one or two older, and sees one of the older children go stumbling at the punch of a girl standing beside Steve. The girl takes advantage of the stumbling boy and knocks him over with a shove. The other children are yelling jeers and encouragement, but once one of them spots Bucky, the crowd quickly disperses. Even at seven, Bucky Barnes was famous for his temper _and_ his friendship with Steve, and no one wanted to get on his bad side.

The other older boy stumbles forward, ready to give you trouble, but Bucky launches himself at the boy, kicking and punching him with a fury, letting up only when he feels the boy moving to run away, and his friend quickly follows. It’s only then, dusting himself off and straightening up, that he sees you clearly for the first time, the girl who threw the punch, as you’re helping Steve up.

“Are you okay?” you ask Steve, who nods as he wipes his nose. “Oh, you have a nosebleed! Here-“ you pluck a handkerchief out of your skirt pocket and hand it to him. “Use this and pinch your nose above your nostrils.”

“I know how to treat a nosebleed,” Steve says, but he takes the handkerchief and does as you say. “My ma’s a nurse.”

“Steve,” Bucky calls out, jogging over to where you and Steve stand. “Are you all right?”

“’M fine, Buck.” Steve mumbles through the handkerchief, but both of you can see his face is red, probably from embarrassment at having to be saved by a girl.

“They were making fun,” you tell Bucky. “One of them was my cousin, had to teach ‘im a lesson.”

Bucky studies you for a minute, trying to figure out if he’s seen you before. Then he notices you’re wearing the uniform for the girls’ private school up the street, the one with the nuns that he and Steve call “penguins” behind their backs.

“Where’d you come from?” Bucky asks you, his eyes narrowing, suspicious. What would one of the private schoolgirls be doing close to the public schoolyard?

You point past Bucky’s head, past the direction of his and Steve’s homes. “I live that way, in the big house with the metal fence?”

Bucky nods and he sees Steve doing the same. They know the house you speak about, practically a mansion. Bucky’s mom works at the department store owned by the man who lives there. He remembered his mom occasionally talking about the man’s family, but she only ever mentioned a son.

“You’re lying, the man who lives there only has a son,” Bucky declares, and you sneer at him.

“That’s because the man who lives there is my _grandfather_ , stupid. His son is my daddy, and we all live with him. Me and my brother and my momma and my daddy.” You shake your head at him, mocking, and without thought, Bucky reaches out and yanks one of your pigtails. He _hated_ being made fun of, or being made to feel dumb, and you had just done both.

“OW!” you yell, pulling your hair out of his grasp and glaring as you smooth your hair back. Then, you reach out with your right hand, pulling it into a fist as you go, and sock Bucky right in the jaw, just the way your grandfather had taught you.

Bucky doesn’t even cry or yell out, but he does stumble back, holding his jaw. He stands upright, ready to hit back because he doesn’t believe in not hitting girls if they hit you first, but Steve pulls him back with a “HEY!” just as a young woman comes running up.

“LITTLE MISS, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TA BE ‘OME TEN MINUTES AGO! WHAT IN ALL THE -“ The woman stops in front of the three of you, grabbing you and checking you frantically. When she’s satisfied you don’t seem hurt, she sees Bucky and Steve and narrows her eyes at them. “And just who are you?” she demands.

Bucky notices that the young woman sounds different from all the other neighborhood women, she sounds like some of the men and women he hears on the radio, the ones who are from England and all fancy, but the woman also sounds less polished and brasher. She’s also dressed like he’s seen some of the women in the neighborhood when they go off to work, and he realizes the woman is a maid or a nurse of some kind. His mother sometimes used the word “governess” to describe those kinds of women, and told him they looked after children when he asked, and he supposes that’s what this woman is to you. Maybe you weren’t lying about living in the big house with the metal fence.

“Annie, I’m sorry! Robbie was making fun of someone, and I had to stop him!” you cry out.

“It’s true, ma’am. It was me. She was only helping.” Steve says, and the woman, Annie, looks at him and notices the handkerchief and the nosebleed, stepping forward to check him.

“Are you all right? Oh, I’ll be givin’ ‘im a hidin’ myself fer this!” the woman says, but Bucky gently nudges his way between the woman and Steve and pushes the woman gently to give Steve space, glaring threateningly but not angrily.

“I’m fine, ma’am,” Steve says, and Annie lets out a huff.

“Alright then. And who are you?” she asks, looking at Bucky.

“He’s mean, Annie!” you say with a smirk, and your governess looks between the two of you before sighing.

“Probably because you gave ‘im a jab, don’t think I didn’t see that, Little Miss.” She scolds you, reaching forward and taking your hand to pull you along.

“He pulled my hair!” you protest, and turn to stick your tongue out at Bucky, who returns the gesture.

“ _Enough_ , Little Miss, or I’ll tell the Big Man you’re to get no nickel fer the pictures this week.” Bucky and Steve hear Annie tell you as the two of you walk away.

“You shouldn’t’ve pulled her hair,” Steve says quietly, and Bucky turns to Steve.

“I thought she was lying,” Bucky says lamely, feeling shamed in only the way Steve and maybe Bucky’s mother can make him feel.

“You should apologize.” Steve says, and Bucky knows he’s right.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes.

* * *

“So wait…” the young woman says, and Bucky looks at her to see a big grin on her face. “That’s how things started? You pulled her hair and she hit you? That’s such a cliché for childhood romance.”

“I was seven,” Bucky says by way of explanation.

The young woman gives a snort-laugh as she reaches for some biscuits on one of the tea trays. “Who was the Big Man? Her father?” she asks before taking a bite.

“Her grandfather. He was rather tall, and he _was_ the patriarch of the family.” The old woman says, before turning to Bucky. “Apologies. Mom had a soft spot for the old man, and I probably heard about him more than any other family member. So I knew that much.”

“No, no, I understand. You probably know some things better than I do.” He tells her.

The old woman shrugs her shoulders. “I have bits and pieces, yes. And I have my suspicions about some things based on what I know happened after you fell.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, but the old woman sips her tea and offers him nothing.

“So you obviously apologized, right?” the young woman interrupts, and Bucky nods.

“She was… surprisingly forgiving.” He tells her, which makes both women chuckle.

* * *

“I didn’t lie.” You told Bucky as he and Steve trail after you. They had waited the next day after school to see you walk past their schoolyard, and when you had, Bucky tried calling after you, which made you pause, look at him, and declare you didn’t lie.

“I know that now, and I’m sorry for pulling your hair.” Bucky said, doing his best to sound contrite. Steve, for his part, stood silently beside Bucky, only nodding his head and looking innocent in a way only Steve was capable of.

You narrow your eyes before nodding. “Okay. I’m sorry for punching you.” you declare. “Want to come to my house?”

Bucky nods immediately. “Yeah!” he declares. He had always wanted to see inside the big house that his mother pointed out to him.

Steve looks less enthused. “I should ask my ma,” he says, which makes Bucky look at him and grab his hand, the way he always does to encourage Steve to follow along on his latest scheme.

“C’mon, your ma’s working today, isn’t she?” Bucky asks. Steve nods, but gives Bucky a withering glance. “We’ll be back before she even gets home. I’ll tell her you were at my house.”

“What if she asks your ma?” Steve asks.

“She won’t,” Bucky assures him.

Steve seems uncertain for a minute, shifting from foot-to-foot. Then he pauses.

“Okay,” he agrees, and the three of you are off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part of Bucky's story takes place in 1924/1925, when he would be seven and Steve would be six.
> 
> The present scenes are meant to take place in late autumn 2017. The Reader's status in the present was never meant to be a mystery.
> 
> I deliberately made the Reader have a privileged background for story purposes later (both spoilery reasons and not, so you history nerds just settle down). Annie, the "governess" who pops up in this part, is meant to be from England like Bucky assumes, specifically the East End of London, which was known for its poverty, which is why she sounds less "polished" to his ears. I would have rendered her accent in its full glory (as in the trilogy of books by Jennifer Worth that inspired _Call the Midwife_ ), but that would have rendered her dialogue nigh-unreadable, so I softened it in-text (not to mention depending on how long she's been stateside, it might have softened on its own).
> 
> I _will_ reveal the two women's names eventually, because writing "the old woman" and "the young woman" is getting exhausting already.

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be about... Nine or ten parts? Don't quote me on that, stories get away from me very easily. And those of you who think you have this all figured out, hush, don't spoil it for the others.
> 
> The B&B Carousell is a real restored carousel in Coney Island, and yes, they spell it that way. The Stage Door Canteen, too, was real, in the basement of the 44st Street Theatre in Manhattan, and there was an ugly striped apron the hostesses had to wear. The memorial plaque is also real.
> 
> This story is based on several different tumblr posts, chiefly [this one](http://vivabucky.tumblr.com/post/150556276237/dating-1940s-bucky-would-include) and [this one](http://imaginesteverogerss.tumblr.com/post/152916203001/imagine-steve-finding-out-one-or-more-if-you) though others will probably pop up.


End file.
